I’m just a tad concerned about my promised profiling bed. It’s been requisitioned, but my worry is that in these days of cuts to everything, the bean-counters might step in and tell me to sod off.
That wouldn’t matter were it not for the fact that I have to get rid of my bed, with its rather nice and comfy memory foam mattress, ASAP, so the new bed can be installed as soon as it becomes available and, conceivably, I could wind up bedless. On the plus side I’d have a lot more room in the bedroom, which could become a den. I’d still need something to sleep on, though.
I’ve been assured that nobody will step in and cancel my new bed – I just wish I could be certain of that.
I offered my double bed to Age UK last week, and they simply can’t be arsed replying, even to say no thanks. So now I’m trying the British Heart Foundation. If they let me down, I’ll send the bugger to the tip as there simply isn’t room for two beds because my powerchair and scooter live in there too (worth bearing in mind that powerchairs and scooters like the same conditions you do – they don’t take kindly to cold, damp, sheds), along with a couple of thousand books and some camping gear, plus the assorted crapola that many of us accumulate when we don’t have a shed, or refuse to pay the council £20 to take a dead TV or computer away,
That’s because recycling needs a car! It also needs a big kitchen to accommodate the various bins, neither of which I have, so screw recycling – if you want me to participate, give me a bigger – and wheelie-friendly – flat.
But I digress. The reason I’m uneasy about the bean-counters is the amount of money already being spent on me by the district nurse service . Take my dressings today – both legs have to be dressed daily, sometimes twice a day, it takes 8 dressing pads per leg (absorbent to soak up the leakage), at £6 each (and yes, the NHS is being grossly ripped off in my view and an order for better, but even more expensive pads, has been kyboshed), plus a tubular mesh to hold them in place, a cotton wool bandage for cushioning, and a firmer – because the pads are heavy next day – tubular bandage to hold in all together, plus an assortment of unguents (labour costs aren’t a factor – they’re incurred whether I’m here or not). I’m not a cheap patient and bean-counters hate that.
Mind you, this condition will haunt me the rest of my life, so in terms of overall cost the bed probably pales into insignificance. And no matter who it’s allocated to, it still costs the same, so logically it might just as well be me as not, I suppose.
Fingers crossed, anyway.
PS – I have an innate reluctance to revert to a single bed. An adult who willingly uses a single bed is, to me, saying “Sod it, I’m never gonna get laid again!”.